


Waiting

by alasondria



Category: Phantasy Star Online 2
Genre: F/M, Luthaly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-08-20 00:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasondria/pseuds/alasondria
Summary: Elmir returns to collect a previously discarded experiment. Luther is the farthest thing from happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> elmir's a clown: the fic

_ Cuent Royal Castle, Luther's Study _

 

Luther's gaze is focused pointedly out of the window overlooking the castle courtyards, his countenance a grim one. At his side, an underling of Alasondria's relays to him a report of her journey to the Verun border to study an Ephemera-related anomaly.

 

Upon her findings, the apprentice said, Alasondria believed Ephemera flourished most heavily in areas that summoned Ephemera forth, rather than when it was left to the wilds.

 

"A nation like Verun, which utilizes heaps of Ephemera daily to carry out the experiments that the Emperor’s younger brother crafts, would surely produce results such as that."

 

"My lord," the apprentice began after an uncomfortable silence. "There is something else. Something which you must know post-haste."

 

"Carry on," Luther replied, brow lofting.

 

"Lady Alasondria... she has yet to return. She bid me report her findings to you in her stead while she prepared to come home, but..."

 

Luther whirled on the underling in any instant, his fury swift and unbridled. "Were there no guards to accompany her? None of you saw fit to stay with her? And why only after the report do you tell me this?!"

 

"My sincerest apologies, Lord Luther," the apprentice hurriedly stumbled out. "Our soldiers should be at the border as we speak, searching for her. We cannot act irrationally, though, lest we rouse Verun's suspicion."

 

"I am well aware of our tensions with our  _ good _ neighbors," Luther hissed, the venom plain in his voice. He clenched his fists tightly and turns back to the window, his expression frozen on that of a man whose rage flowed unending.

 

_ That Alasondria should be left alone at the Verun border. _

 

"The chance of that twisted  _ clown _ finding her," he muttered. "Send for my mount. I am going."

 

"My lord! That is inadvisable! The borders of Epic and Es-Ars remain peaceful but Verun's borders are razed and riddled with conflict. We cannot risk you in the middle of that."

 

Luther remained still for but a moment, until he turned slowly to face the underling.

 

"But you can risk my aide?"

 

Raw anger, tempered like a blade, cut the air between prince and apprentice. Shrinking away from the lord of Cuent, the apprentice gazed uneasily up at his towering figure. Etched on Luther's features was a terrifying visage of scorn made manifest.

 

Luther spoke in a level tone, one that betrayed the fire churning inside him. "I will not repeat myself."

 

"Y-yes, my lord! Your mount shall be prepared right away!"

 

"Call back all soldiers. Whether it is a squadron or the prince of Cuent, it matters little as to who arouses the suspicion. Both are unnerving to a Verunian bystander."

 

"But, my lord... should you go alone..."

 

"Once more—I do not make a habit of repeating myself."

 

* * *

  
  


_ Cuent Outskirts, Cuent-Verun border _

 

The trip to the northern Cuent-Verun border proved altogether difficult thanks to harsh winds and a dark storm clouding around the valley. Luther paid little mind to the forming weather, instead he pressed onward, the narrowing strip of road giving out the further he got from Cuent. As he neared the border proper, he took notice of its emptiness; no Verunian soldiers were to be found guarding it and no citizens lingered either.

 

Luther frowned. He'd been made aware of the forced-demonization the Emperor's fool brother dabbled in, but to think his arrogance claimed enough victims to render the border nigh barren. It harkened him back to a time he wished desperately he could forget but swore that he never would.

 

Still, he did not drop his guard. Dropping off his mount, Luther set to work searching around the immediate area. His foot met with something firm and he moved swiftly to swipe at it. A leather-bound notebook; Alasondria's, without a doubt. He opened it carefully and peered at its contents. Inscribed upon the cover within was  _ 'Memo of Cuent Royal Aide, Alasondria.' _

 

Luther traced the faintly bevelled lettering, his fingers caressing the inscription of his aide's name.

 

"Where is she," he muttered to himself, voice far away. He closed the journal shut with a soft  _ thump _ and reviewed the cover. It hadn't been scuffed and there was no indication it had been wrestled from her person. The most likely outcome was that it had fallen out of her satchel. Why a situation arose where her journal, usually buried beneath heaps of other books and texts, would manage to be jostled enough out of her pack became another thing for Luther to consider. An accident was out of the question. Though he hated every suggestion of it, the only logical explanation was that someone had laid their hands on her as she was preoccupied with writing notes.

 

To be sure of his theory, Luther flipped the journal open once more and peered at the latest entry.

 

_ Cuent-Verun border, North _

 

_ 'The Ephemera anomaly picks up closer towards the border leading into Cuent, curious to note. Despite Ephemera being scarce on Cuent's side, anomaly grows here. Can feel the pulse of it in the land. No demon castles. No demon soldiers.' _

 

_ 'Anomaly shifted towards Verun, grew much larger for a moment; shifted back to a dull hum of energy very nearly afterwards.' _

 

_ 'Anomaly behaves strangely. It flickers in and out, of that I can feel thanks to my disposition. But it feels much like the readings of a fellow experiment victim. Could it be one of those two?' _

 

_ 'Anomaly disappeared. Elmir Verun made appearance. Currently hidden in ruins on our side to observe. He seems to he settling in for something.' _

 

_ 'Sighted—' _

 

The final word in the entry is hastily written, half of it veering into an uncertain jagged line across the page. There's ink splattered along the center of the next page, indicating a struggle may have occurred; one only brief enough to shake the journal from Alasondria's hands.

 

It's clear that she  _ had _ been taken, Luther realized. Why her captors did not think to take her notes he could not say. If it was not her knowledge on magic and summoning they were after then plainly it was something else.

 

Suddenly, a memory from bygone days flashed through his mind.

 

_ "I want to... cultivate what lays dormant in me, that I might stand a chance against Elmir if he does intend to keep his word." _

 

Luther’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and wild as he stared in quiet, smoldering fury beyond the Verunian border line.

 

"He'd kept his word," he spoke aloud to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verun's lord and Cuent's royal aide exchange jabs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for the ham

_Verun Capital, Elmir's Study_

 

Alasondria awoke to the sound of a far-off conversation, voices muddled and incomprehensible.

 

In an attempt to gauge her surroundings, she raised her head slightly, yet as she did a sharp pain lanced through it, forcing it to fall back against the surface she laid on with a harsh _thud_.

 

A snide yet jovial voice, altogether far too familiar for Alasondria's liking, bursted into the room suddenly.

 

"Ah, you're awake! Excellent timing! I feared I'd have to employ a rather unpleasant trick had you not stirred sooner."

 

Alasondria struggled to crane her neck again to take in the situation and the individual in the room with her. She glanced down to find, much to her horror, her arms had been clamped with chains and her legs had been strapped tightly together.

 

"Pardon the crude set-up. You did manage to slip out once. I don't want a repeat of that."

 

The voice drew nearer still and heavy footsteps closed in. Alasondria snarled.

 

"Oh, settle down, won't you? You'll find there's no need for that. After all, you aren't going anywhere this time."

 

At last, her captor poked his head over, beholding her with a terribly kind smile that betrayed the ruthlessness hiding behind his jester-like appearance.

 

"Elmir," Alasondria hissed.

 

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance once more," he offered, tipping his hat to her.

 

Alasondria jerked forward, the chains around her hands rattling loudly.

 

"When I get out of here _again_ I will _not_ spare you."

 

"Again?" Elmir echoed, a lilt in his voice. "You were a work in progress. You did not escape by chance, I allowed you to leave because I needed a test run for data collection and now I get to analyze it! Aren't you thrilled?"

 

Elmir beamed down at Alasondria before he turned to place his cane aside and pick up a scalpel resting on a desk beside his restraint table. He held it up for the woman to see and turned it around in the light, its steel glaring angrily back at her.

 

"Your first test of how much pain you could tolerate after the initial demonization was quite enlightening," Elmir began, his words dripping with unmasked enthusiasm. "Shall we take the other ear off to see how you fair now?"

 

As he continued, he inched nearer to Alasondria, scalpel falling closer to her remaining unscathed ear. She tried desperately to turn her head out of reach but Elmir's free hand darted forward to grip her chin and force her attention ahead.

 

"This is the heart of my work! To create souls strong enough to ignore pain, strong enough to keep fighting, to trudge onward, always. That is what I labour to achieve! And then—an unending army, one that does not hesitate, even after death. Unyielding sowers of chaos. _"_

 

"Because you cannot do anything yourself without men made as dogs and Ephemera to make them heel in the first place," Alasondria spat, struggling against Elmir's hold.

 

Elmir’s hand instantly dropped to her throat and seized it with a vice grip.

 

"I am tired of your _bark._ The sooner you join your brainless friends the better."

 

As he spoke, words oozing malice, Elmir drew the scalpel to Alasondria's ear and readied his cut when a light whirled into the room with a sharp whistle, plowing into the young lord with immense force.

 

"Keep your hands _off_ of my aide," growled a hollow voice.

 

Elmir scrambled to his feet and groped for his cane, a scowl already forming on his lips. "I should have known the crown prince would come hobbling after his pet."

 

Stepping through the grand oak doors that lead into Elmir's study was Luther, his visage stoic but his seething rage palpable; it was not lost on any present—the Emperor’s brother most of all.

 

"Pet?" Luther raised his hand, a similar light from before crackled around his fingertips. "I would ask you to refrain from calling _my_ aide a _pet_."

 

Loosing the energy once more, Luther flung an explosion of light towards Elmir who had readily prepared a summoning for a demon soldier to take the brunt of the spell for him. The soldier’s armour had been eaten through from the blast and beyond the plating was what seemed like blackened skin, ever-shifting, like an infinite void, with licks of red lightning surging around the abyss. Alasondria reeled against her restraints, her voice hoarse when she yelled in Elmir’s direction.

 

“You turned them all into that?!”

 

“Naturally, my dear! You can’t withstand pain with a mortal coil, can you?” Elmir offered aside, his face splitting into a delighted grin.

 

Luther threw a spell without warning at the young lord’s face, narrowly missing on purpose. A threat.

 

“The only one allowed to call her dear is me.”

 

Elmir clicked his tongue and twirled his cane around to clap it into his other hand. “Possessive are we? I worry how your relationship is at home.”

 

“All you do is jeer and gibe,” Luther lifted an arm, raising his hand up and opening his palm skyward. “You are no royalty. You’re a madman grown too greedy. No hand to stay your atrocities. I pity you, Elmir Verun. I truly do.”

 

“Pity me?” Elmir asked, incredulous. “I need no one’s pity, certainly not the spoiled prince of Cuent’s. Who was it that created the demon castles again?”

 

Luther closed his fist, fingers taut against the fabric of his glove. A faint glimmer gathered within his palm. He drew his hand back down, peered at it with idly curiosity, and then addressed Elmir, his countenance leveling out. Unbridled wrath was replaced instead with the cool facade of Cuent’s mage-tactician. He shot a brief glance towards his aide; her eyes had been locked on him through the whole exchange. He saw her unwavering conviction, the steeled strength he’d seen in her when first they met. It had been Elmir’s mistake to assume he could do with her as he pleased. Alasondria very well may not have needed his help escaping, but he would be damned if he didn’t unleash justice upon Verun’s _clown_ for laying a hand on _his_ aide.

 

“I did create the demon castles but I likewise created the buster towers and piles to destroy them. You covet the knowledge I threw out. I wonder, do you know you’re working with discarded experiments?”

 

Luther felt the mana resting within his palm thrum, buzzing to life as he spoke. Though the spell had not converged at its peak yet already he could feel the power coalescing rapidly. With Lutz, one dash of light was enough to disarm him. Lutz, however, was not a _learned_ magician. Lutz relied on Ephemera to control magic as readily as Luther did. Elmir Verun was, though he was loathe to admit it, a spitting image of himself. Therefore, he would easily read any attack Luther threw out. He needed a new tactic and lobbing spell after spell at Elmir, however satisfying, was not it.

 

Elmir scoffed and tapped his cane against his open hand twice. “I work with failures all the time. Why do you suppose I have your precious aide again?”

 

It was a ploy to rile him up, Luther knew that. But _damn_ him to the _deepest_ _hell_ for suggesting Alasondria was little more than a cog in his vile machine.

 

“It would be quite terrible if I let these materials go to waste, you see,” the young lord continued, his lips quirking once more into a dreadful, delighted grin. “I did the same with her fellow guinea pigs. Excellent resources, those ones.”

 

Luther could not fling a spell at Elmir no matter how much his body yearned to vault a fireball directly into his godforsaken face. Despite the anger swelling inside him, he had to remain composed. This was not an instant incantation and it required far, far too much of his focus to complete, something he cursed himself for now. He could worry about studying how to speed the process up later. Alasondria was his first priority. He spared another glance in her direction and saw her halt in whatever actions she’d been preoccupied with earlier. She shook her head hastily at him and then tipped it at Elmir, gesturing as best she could within her restraints.

 

_Keep him distracted,_ she seemed to say.

 

The prince narrowed his eyes as he drew his attention back to Verun’s young lord. Elmir lofted a brow, his grin replaced now by a disinterested look. _Had he noticed?_

 

Luther tried his level best to keep his gaze placed firmly on Elmir, so as not to warrant suspicion, but it was difficult to not glance at Alasondria to see if whatever she was stalling for had come to fruition. He frowned but remained steady. Elmir rolled his eyes.

 

“I did expect to have a much more interesting response but I suppose that’s over with, as well I think this whole charade should be,” he smoothed his open palm along his cane and then swiftly flipped it around to point it in Luther’s direction, his countenance now a grave one.

 

“If she will not become fodder for my war then she will feed Omega’s soil. You do not have a say in this, prince of Cuent. Not this time.”

 

There remained far too much time on his spell, Luther was aware of that. To be able to successfully pull it off he would need still a handful of minutes more, yet it seemed Elmir was done toying with them and was prepared to dispose of him to resume his machinations. _No matter what happens,_ Luther thought. _I cannot let him lay a hand on Alasondria._

 

Going against his better judgement, Luther spared another look towards his aide and found to his utter surprise that she was missing; as if she’d vanished from sight entirely. He peered cautiously at the chains laying on the table which appeared, if only for a moment, to shudder slightly. Below the chains laid the restraints, torn apart and strewn about. Elmir followed Luther’s gaze, blinking at his empty experiment table once and then whirling around on his heel to storm up to it, furious.

  
“Gone?! How could she be _gone?!_ "


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuent's royal aide packs a surprising punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took a while and this wound up being the final chapter! for my first ever chapter fic that's not too bad (right???)  
> i'm waffling on a brief epilogue but for now, i think this is it

_ Verun Capital, Elmir's Study _

 

Luther took a cautious step away from the Verunian lord but his movement was read almost instantly. Appearing behind him, summoned with bewildering speed, was a demon soldier, clad in its black and red armour and readying a swing of its axe at the prince’s neck. Cursing himself for his foolishness, Luther attempted to throw a mana shield up to block the blow and avoid fatal injury but when steel failed to meet jugular he was left utterly confounded. No doubt he should be  _ mortally _ wounded by now.

 

_ What in Cuent’s name--? _

 

A discordant clatter of armour slumping to the ground was all prince and lord heard before their eyes landed on the figure who remained after the soldier’s empty husk dispersed. There stood Alasondria, fists up and poised to strike again. Angry red veins surged around her eyes, they pulsed and shimmered faintly under her skin. Luther could see that her eyes, no longer their warm gold hue, were stained scarlet and filled with a discernible hatred as she stared Elmir down. They were piercing, they were terrifying, and yet as well, they were captivating.

 

Elmir tsked. “Whatever happened to swearing against using that little gift I gave you?”

 

“Time changes a person,” Alasondria offered flatly. “I should thank you for it. However unpleasant the introduction, it does have its uses.”

 

“Quite right,” Elmir agreed, lifting his cane up and resting it against his shoulder, an expression of utter exasperation replacing his previous one. “If only you’d realized that sooner! We’d have washed our hands of this mess.”

 

“The only mess I’ll be washing my hands of is your blood, you  _ bastard _ , _ ”  _ Alasondria spat back, her teeth bared at the Verunian lord.

 

Elmir recoiled in mock fear.

 

“Oh, I am  _ shaking _ in my boots!”

 

Despite the exchange, Luther remained, his eyes studying every inch of his aide. He had already been made intimately familiar with her condition prior. The fact she had been forcibly demonized was not something she hid from him. She had even used it before to stabilize Harriet when her body struggled to hold itself together from the new soul roiling inside it. Seeing her portion off a piece of her life to steady his sister’s had been a transfixing, albeit sobering, event. He became aware in that moment that demonization, in the right hands, could be a boon. But he had likewise known that it cost the user; it did not matter whether or not one used it to save a life or take one.

 

Demonization eats away at the host and Alasondria was bleeding herself dry.

 

As he watched her he came to the gut churning realization that she was steadily being consumed by her fury and it stood to reason that his aide would lose herself completely to the demonization in her blind rage. 

 

_ She will not stop until Elmir is dead at her feet, _ Luther thought.

 

“Alasondria!” He called suddenly and made for where she stood. “Step down. Verun’s fool of a lord is not worth this. You are draining every ounce of yourself.”

 

But Alasondria did not respond. Instead, she neared Elmir, her arms still raised but her fists uncurling as she rounded on him. Elmir watched her with a bored expression.

 

“Not going to answer to your dear prince? Goodness me, what a sorry state Cuent’s noble court is in.”

 

“Stepping down is not an option anymore,” Alasondria said, her face blank and her words cold.

 

Luther stopped short in his tracks, his stomach dropping as he beheld his aide’s robotic disposition. She ignored him and pressed ahead. Her fingers were stretched out like a claw, her nails grown long and sharp as the demonization began to claim ever more of her. And he watched her, petrified, before a surge of indignation rose up and swept away any lingering fear. Luther straightened his back out and walked forward briskly, intercepting her march by putting himself between her and Elmir. He looked down at her with a hard, calculating glare, usually reserved for anyone else but his aide. Alasondria’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Move,” she barked, unaware, or perhaps uncaring, that she spat venom at her prince.

 

“I will not move, Alasondria,” Luther proclaimed in an equally malice-riddled voice.

 

“Move, Luther! I must do this!” She snapped back.

 

“I will not move. Not until you stand down,” he replied. “You are killing yourself, do you know that?”

 

“If it takes my life to kill  _ him _ I would gladly pay that price tenfold.”

 

At this, Luther’s hand darted forward suddenly, grabbing one of Alasondria’s wrists and squeezing it when she recoiled and made an attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. His glare deepened when he spoke.

 

“The Alasondria I know would never speak flagrantly of laying down her life. Especially not for a worm like Elmir Verun.”

 

“The Alasondria you know has toiled endlessly through every trial and tribulation to muster enough strength  _ to  _ kill him!” Alasondria offered back, her voice now faltering. She winced when Luther’s grip on her wrist tightened and she peered back into his eyes; his unwavering, steely eyes that burned a hole straight through her heart. The scowl on his face only darkened.

 

“No, the Alasondria I know has gone through one struggle after the next, conquering each one with unparalleled grace and conviction. The Alasondria I know has never quit even when faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. The Alasondria I know is a woman who I would plainly be nothing without. She has held me up through my worst years, devoted herself to me wholly, and kept my path a sure one. She is my aide and confidant, my colleague and equal. She is my irreplaceable future. And I will  _ not _ lose her.”

 

As he watched her with keen eyes, Luther loosened his grip on his aide’s wrist yet he did not release it completely. Her expression, no longer contorted into raw anger, instead appeared utterly stricken. She stared up at him with wide eyes, their scarlet stain slowly dissipating to show again their familiar, brilliant golden hue. Luther brought his other hand up to gently press it against her cheek, his thumb tracing along it with a featherlight touch. Alasondria’s breath hitched and she choked on a sob caught in her throat.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice strained and watery. “You’re right… you’re right, Luther. Oh, I’ve been such a fool.”

 

“Alasondria,” Luther braced a hand on her hip and guided his fingers from her cheek to her chin, holding it in place to keep her gaze fixed pointedly on him as he spoke. “You are no fool. You were kidnapped twice now by the same bastard who has put you through unspeakable pain. Your feelings are justified.”

 

Just as his aide leaned forward, her reply on the tip of her tongue, a snide remark rang out.

 

“Are you two quite finished? Or do you intend to snog in my lab for the unforeseeable future?”

 

There stood Elmir, his cane propped against his shoulder and a particularly deep frown pulling at his lips. Luther stared at him, a mixture of annoyance and sheer disbelief clear on his face. Elmir gestured vaguely.

 

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve no intention of meddling anymore for today. You two are  _ more _ than free to be lovebirds elsewhere.”

 

“And how should we be expected to take your word for that?” Alasondria countered and Luther had to restrain her when she wriggled in his hold and made like she once more intended to throttle the Verunian lord. Elmir shook his head and sighed theatrically.

 

“I know very well when a battle’s lost. But, rest assured! This war is  _ far _ from over,” he offered with a gleeful lilt.

 

With that, he turned promptly on his heel and started for the grand oak doors leading out of his study, whistling a jaunty tune as he walked passed the pair with a comical tip of his hat in their direction. Alasondria offered a crude gesture in return. Elmir’s face split into a delighted grin and he laughed a short boisterous laugh and continued ahead, twirling his cane along as he did.

 

As he neared a corner he threw one arm up and waved without looking back. “Keep my guinea pig well fed, prince of Cuent. Wouldn’t do to have her expire on me before the next analysis.”

The rapidly dwindling composure Luther had over himself snapped at last like a taut thread and he called back at the young lord before he disappeared entirely from view.

 

“You’d better pray your cold heart still beats in your chest by then!”

 

“Dear,” Alasondria said suddenly, placing a hand on his arm, her lithe fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve desperately. Luther’s attention whipped down to his aide immediately. The colour had all but drained from her face and he noticed that she struggled to keep herself upright. Her grip on his coat sleeve was, at first, like iron; so much that he could feel her nails digging into his skin underneath. But soon it weakened and she seemed unable to retain the strength to cling on any further.

 

“Alasondria… you cannot walk in this state. Come,” he said, bending at the knee and outstretching his arms. “You must rest. I will carry you back to Cuent. ”

 

His aide’s eyes were glassy as she beheld him and he could see that tears threatened to spill over. Her body shook against the exhaustion and the pain. But still, Luther knew, she was elated. Her tears were ones of pure joy. For he’d told her they were going back to Cuent. He was taking her  _ home.  _

 

“...Yes, right,” she managed. “Thank you, dear.”

 

As she settled into his hold, her head slumped against his chest and she loosed a heavy, tired sigh. Luther craned his neck to plant a fleeting kiss to the crown of her head.

 

“It’s alright,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re alright.”

 

Alasondria leaned heavily into Luther’s embrace and smiled to herself before the exhaustion took hold, forcing her eyes shut.

 

His aide now slumbered, no doubt restlessly as the resurfaced trauma of Elmir’s horrid experiments would begin to plague her once more. Luther brought her closer still, holding her as tight as he could without rousing her. He clung as desperately as she had, for he’d come so,  _ far _ too close, to losing her. He resolved, there in the dreadful chambers of Verun’s lord, to never again allow her to suffer. He blamed himself for his negligence, for straying from her side, even when he knew she would tell him to perish the thought, that she’d never fault him for it in a million years. Still, he lamented his inaction. Several years together, days and nights spent learning and relearning the past and present between them had opened his eyes to the unfortunate man he had been to the world around him.

 

And to her.

 

_ Indeed, I’ve much to improve on. _

 

He set his jaw and removed his gaze from Alasondria’s sleeping figure.

 

If he was to show her that he was not the selfsame fool from that gone and buried era he must needs start now.


End file.
